


neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bad Days, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Deanna nodded once to herself, adjusted her hair, straightened her uniform, and set out to conqueror the day. Nine hours later, she was ready to admit that the day had won."</p>
            </blockquote>





	neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [craterdweller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/craterdweller/gifts).



> Thanks to my wonderful beta for pointing out my mistakes. All remaining errors are, of course, my own.
> 
> craterdweller, I hope you enjoy this small slice of Riker/Troi comfort fic.

_"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are." ~ Dinah Maria Mulock_

 

Deanna squinted at her schedule and indulged in a moment of self-pity. She had two counseling sessions, a meeting with the counseling staff, a meeting with Beverly, and a meeting with the Captain, and that was all before lunch. Her afternoon started with a meeting with Counselor Pomak, which would be half professional assessment and half hand-holding as she tried to talk Pomak through his anxieties. That was followed by two more counseling sessions, and at the bottom of the PADD, beneath her schedule, there was a reminder her that she had promised that the Captain would have her notes on the report that xenosociology had prepared about the Arkadarian people by 1700, and another that she was supposed to make the time to read The Journal of Comparative Neuropsychology tonight.

Deanna set down her PADD. She squared her shoulders and regarded herself in the mirror. She was Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Commander in Starfleet, holder of a Master's Certification in Psychology from the University of Mars and Fifth Level Degree in Psychotherapy from the Banzai Institute, and excellent poker player. She was not about to be cowed by a daunting schedule. She nodded once to herself, adjusted her hair, straightened her uniform, and set out to conqueror the day.

Nine hours later, she was ready to admit that the day had won.

She had put up a valiant struggle. Her first two counseling sessions had been hard, and she really should have known better than to schedule two trauma cases back to back, even if one of them was almost fully recovered, but both of her patients had left her office feeling better than when they walked in. As draining as both sessions had been, they were the highlight of her day. 

Her meeting with her staff had gone off the rails about ten minutes in. Ly'Alta and Huang had come in angry with each other over a disagreement about how to treat a particularly troubling eating disorder, and they had become so snappish and unprofessional that Deanna had been forced to break from her agenda to address it, telling them sharply that if they were going to behave like children, she was going to send them to the school room to sit in one of the comfort corners until they were capable of behaving rationally again. That had quieted them, but the resulting emotional radiation, full of embarrassment, resentment, and anger, had left her drained and emotionally raw.

Beverly, usually a bright spot in any day, had dumped three new and especially troubling patients on her, including a nasty case of emotional abuse, a newly developed agoraphobia, and a delusional disorder that would have been enjoyably fascinating had Deanna not been well aware that a promising Lieutenant's career would be over if she couldn't help Beverly figure out how to treat him effectively. Even if they could treat him, mental illness of that sort would disqualify him for deep space exploration. At best, he was going to find himself compiling reports in a non-critical research station, and that was if he wasn't simply medically discharged.

The rest of the day had followed in a similar vein. The Captain had been testy, Pomak had been upset by the earlier disaster of a meeting and had needed more reassurance than usual, and her first counseling session of the afternoon had ended with Lieutenant J'Kaz saying that xe wanted to try another councilor because xe didn't think Deanna was helping xem.

Still, she might have done it. She had almost made it through the day without admitting defeat. It was her last appointment which had finally done her in. Ensign Tenak had come to see her, and he was a Vulcan, and as such he wouldn't simply admit to being depressed and anxious. No, it had been forty minutes of, "Logically, one knows that one is important, but I have found that at times one's mind can lead one to doubt that which is known, that which logic confirms."

Endless minutes of someone talking around the real issue was hardly unique to Vulcans, but what was unique was the techniques that they used to shield their minds. Usually, Deanna found the sort of mental static that came from Vulcans trying to block her from their thoughts and emotions merely a low-level annoyance, but whether Tenak had been using a different method or she was simply more sensitive than usual from her awful day, by the time he left she had a raging headache that was made her feel as if she were going to be sick.

She gave in. She sent a message to the Captain telling him he would have her notes tomorrow, and gave herself permission to not so much as look at a single academic journal for the rest of the day. She laid on the couch in her office breathing slowly until the nausea passed, then replicated an analgesic and a glass of water. She swallowed as much medication as the replicator would give her, and her headache almost immediately retreated into a slight throb in her temples.

Deanna allowed herself to take herself mentally off duty and start thinking about her evening instead. Some stretching exercises, followed by a quick shower, and then she'd put on her favorite nightgown and replicate a mug of hot chocolate and put on Bolian tribal music and relax.

"Riker to Counselor Troi."

Deanna covered her face with her hands and sighed. She dropped her hands and tapped her comm badge. "Troi here."

"Can I see you in my office?"

He didn't sound upset, but he did sound serious. "I'll be right there."

He was alone in his office, which was something of a relief. Deanna was worn out, and a large meeting would have meant trying to filter through the emotions of multiple people. Will's emotions were as familiar to her as her own. Being with him was as comfortable as being alone, and sometimes even better. If her plans for a relaxing evening had to be interrupted, a one-on-one conversation with Will was about the best she could have asked for.

He was sitting at his computer deep in focus when she arrived. He nodded to a chair, but didn't otherwise look up from what he was typing. Deanna sat, noting that he felt annoyed, tired, and frustrated, but not anxious or particularly upset. This was not a matter of life or death, then. She relaxed.

While she waited for him to finish what he was doing, she looked around his office. She spent far more time in the Captain's ready room than in Will's office. Captain Picard had designed his ready room as a retreat for himself. It reflected his interests and personality well. Will, by contrast, had very little of himself in this space. It wasn't surprising given that he used his office as little as possible, preferring to work on the bridge or in Ten Forward whenever possible.

The only personal touches that Deanna could see were three framed Miles Davis album covers displayed on one wall--replicas naturally, for any originals that might have survived would be in a museum--and a black stone sculpture on display on a low table.

Will finally looked up. "Sorry about that. When I leave Starfleet, I'm going to go work as a primary school teacher. I already have plenty of experience settling disputes between squabbling children."

Deanna, the nonsense between Ly'Alta and Huang still fresh in her mind, laughed harder than the joke deserved.

Will tilted his head slightly to one side and Deanna sensed concern. "Are you okay?"

Deanna made a so-so gesture with her hand. "It has been a _very_ long day," she said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Deanna opened her mouth to say no, but instead found herself pouring out every frustration of her terrible day.

"Wow," Will said, when she reached the end.

Deanna only nodded. She felt lighter for having confided in him, but also exhausted, as if she had used what little energy she had left speaking about her day.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Will asked. He gestured to a PADD on his desk. "Aside from not asking you to help me review the personnel assignments for the Arkadarian delegation, because I'm afraid that really can't wait until tomorrow."

Deanna smiled, an inappropriate thought crossing her mind. She opened her mouth and then closed it quickly. Exhaustion was making her stupid. 

Will tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed. "Deanna?"

She shook her head. "Never mind," she said. "Let's talk about the Arkadarian delegation."

He leaned back. "I remember two things that I used to do for you on bad days. One of them probably isn't a good idea anymore."

Deanna flushed, remembering a time years ago, coming in from a rainy, miserable day and being slowly undressed--"Unwrapped like the best present in the world," Will had said, absurd and yet somehow charming--and led to bed. She sighed. "I don't think either of them is a good idea, Will."

He shrugged. "Your choice," he said. "But the offer is there."

Deanna picked up the PADD and stared at it without seeing a word it said. She set it back down. "You really don't mind?"

"I don't," he said easily.

"I do still have a slight headache..." she said, and Will grinned and got up and walked around the table.

Her head fell forward as soon as he put his hands on her shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles in her neck on either side of the vertebrae. _He is so, so good at this_ , she thought. His hands were warm and soft, and found all of the stiff places in her shoulders. As soon as she began to relax, he slid his hands up. He gently tugged at both earlobes before burying his hands in her hair.

Long, strong fingers splayed out and rubbed small circles on her scalp, making her shiver and bite her lip to avoid moaning indecently. She leaned her head back toward him, letting herself get lost in the sensation as he ran his thumb along the hairline at the back of her neck, then slid his hands down to rub her shoulders again and her upper back.

He paused at her mid-back, asking, "Is this okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," she managed, and she could feel his grin as his hands slid down and he pressed the heels of his hands into her lower back, making her back arch and releasing nearly all of the tension that she had been carrying for most of the day.

She sighed as he ran his hands up, thumbs pressing against either side of her spine, back to her shoulders. He was more gentle then, easing the last of the tension out of her shoulders before running his fingers through her hair one last time. She groaned when he pulled away.

"Still got it," he said smugly, leaning against the desk only a about half a meter from her.

"I never imagined that you lost it," Deanna said, looking up at him. They stared at each other for a moment, and Deanna didn't need her Betazed heritage to tell her what he was thinking.

He reached out to touch her face, but she caught his hand, squeezed it once, and pushed it away. He gave her a bittersweet smile, full of understanding and acceptance and only a little regret.

"Will, when we do this again, it needs to be for good," she said.

He looked at her with surprise. "When?"

"If," she corrected hastily.

Will nodded, took a breath and went back to sit behind his desk. "So, the personnel assignments for the Arkadarian delegation," he said.

"The personnel assignments for the Arkadarian delegation," she echoed, reaching for the PADD. When she was sure he wasn't looking at her, she dared to glance up at him over the top of the PADD.

She had been saying if for a very long time, but she was beginning to think it really was a matter of when.


End file.
